


Soft Hands, Firm Will

by funny_dawg



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon: Castlevania (Cartoon 2017), Castlevania Series Spoilers, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funny_dawg/pseuds/funny_dawg
Summary: "I made you into my pet"It's been several days since Hector was told this, and now he and Lenore must explore the aftermath of the betrayal.
Relationships: Hector/Lenore (Castlevania)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 41





	1. Relent

"I made you into my pet."

That had been several days ago, and so surely enough time for him to process the situation. 

"Bless him, humans can be such slow creatures," she said fondly, which was quickly followed by multiple sighs.  
"Lenore, stop pining over your puppy and get it to work." 

This had been around an hour ago, and so surely enough time to show Hector the forge. 

"Take it off, right now." 

This had been several minutes ago, and so surely enough time for him to realise the futility of his order, how he wanted and needed this, and that it truly was better this way.

Yet Hector refused to end his ridiculous strike, stubbornly remaining in her bathroom, which, although the most elegant place to shit in the castle, was not suited for Hector's temper tantrum.  
"I think you'd like your new forge if you just bothered to come and see it with me. Striga worked very hard on it."  
"I don't give a shit about Striga," Hector growled from behind the door, his voice quiet and dangerously low.  
Lenore smirked. "Good thing you lowered your voice when you said that. She has much better hearing than you."  
Hector didn't respond, perhaps adding the silent treatment onto his list of futile strike attempt, which so far included attempting to break ALL of the ring's rules. A lot of hearts had been shat out recently. 

She honestly had no idea why he was so obsessed with the ring. She knew that she'd have been able to secure his loyalty without it, but she doubted her sisters would be content without the extra security of the magic. Although, they still weren't content with the Hector situation. They wanted an army of Night Creatures, and her pet wasn't providing. Lenore was anticipating Carmilla's next hissy fit coming soon if Hector didn't relent. 

"Carmilla told me you liked forging. Why don't you want to do what you love and make me happy in the process? It's a win-win."  
"I don't want to make you and the other bitches happy, slut," he hissed. 

She couldn't see his expression, but she knew he was losing control of himself. The behaviour definitely wasn't very Hector-like. She hadn't known him very long, but he was a gentle, damaged soul. 

One who needed to remember who was in charge. 

But no, she wouldn't beat the poor thing. Not again. She didn't take pleasure in these things like Morana and Carmilla. She would leave the door, which she was perfectly capable of opening, and Hector alone. He couldn't escape or attempt to hurt her anyway. He was trapped in the castle with her. His temper would wane, for humans were fickle creatures. He'd get bored, or hopefully even remorseful when he remembered that she was the only person to treat him kindly. Why did it matter that she had a goal in mind? 

And so Lenore left him to lick his wounds. Alone, in the bathroom. 

Hector glanced around it, and had some recollection of the forgotten concepts from Dracula's castle. Which reminded him of his betrayal of the first person to treat him with respect. Which reminded him of the bitter consequences of the betrayal. Carmilla and her humiliation, Lenore and her "FUCKING BITCHINESS, FUCK!" Fucking stream of consciousness led him to that BITCH. Just the thought of her made him tense all over again. 

Then he calmed down and realised he'd sworn out loud. Then he calmed down enough to realise that Lenore didn't respond. Then he calmed down even more to realise that meant she'd probably left. 

He lasted about 10 minutes in the bathroom. He was tired of the resistance he'd given in the last couple of days. It was pointless, and not even whole-hearted. Maybe she'd managed to worm her way into his mind again, with the "this is what you always wanted" reassurances. 

Hector needed to find Lenore. Or his forge. She'd probably be a smug bitch about it. 

Lenore was waiting nearby though, apparently so sure that he'd cave quickly that she hadn't even bothered to pull up chair. He prepared himself for the insults about his weak-will, but she didn't mock him. She smiled gently, taking his hand. It felt soft. Comforting, seemingly lacking in possessiveness and cruelty. 

"Let's get you to your forge," she said, her voice pleasant as she led the silent forgemaster to his work.


	2. Perfect Stains

Lenore was right. Hector did like his new forge. 

"Something about the presence of rotting flesh really helps him." 

Striga was impressed by the human's work, but not by Lenore's rants about him to her. The little vampire wasn't even attempting to feign disinterest in Hector. She clearly wasn't intrigued by him just for their army, but Striga didn't take much mind. She knew her sisters were loyal. 

Her sisters, because their bond was so strong it was as though they shared the same blood. 

And there they were now. Gathered around the table, sharing a decanter of virgin blood. 

Hector was hovering near Lenore, a grimace on his face. He was to simply wait in silence, being in earshot of the conversation, but not being allowed to participate unless spoken to. And so Hector was silent for most of the meeting, and it was only when he had numb legs that Striga decided to take interest in him. 

"How many can you make?" 

Hector didn't respond to Striga's question, clearly lost in his own thoughts from being ignored for so long. It wasn't until Lenore tugged on his shirt sleeve and Striga repeated her question that he replied. 

"However many corpses you provide," he responded, voice cracking from disuse, assuming she'd been asking how many Night Creatures he could forge, rather than how many baskets he could weave. 

After this brief interaction, Hector was dismissed with a wave of Striga's hand, with this being all that was expected of the man until he returned to his forge. 

He worked relentlessly that night. He thought that his break from forging would make his skills out of practice and weaker, but the muscle memory and a surprising amount of new-found energy meant that the creatures were some of the best he'd ever made. He looked at his work, and saw beauty in what he had tamed. Soon to be blood-soaked talons. Milky eyes, hiding the wildness that should come with such creature. Stygian black wings, reassuring its victims that fleeing wasn't possible, although they all partook in the futility anyway. 

And a frothing maw, inside which were the fangs that would pierce a man's skull that very night.

And then the man's insides would stain the snow, the creature would remove itself from its new-found brother's brain, the corpse would be forged into a night creature, and peace would return to Styria, as though an army of demons could never exist in such perfection.


	3. Rotting Away

"Yellow Horyicus. I'll assume you've come across it in your reading."  
"Highly deadly to me, less so for you."  
"Vampirism has its advantages." 

Lenore and Hector had been touring the castle hand in hand, with Hector only grunting responses to Lenore, who was fairly chatty and light-hearted today. He'd been rather listless during the tour, at least until they came across the plant nursery. Lenore had assumed that the man wouldn't be interested in the castle's saplings until he gently tugged her hand in the direction of the nursery's doorway, but she was pleased that he'd finally taken an interest in her home. 

They stopped to discuss some of the more interesting specimens, with Lenore's botanical knowledge proving the trip to be very informative. Hector now knew of the Horyicus's disgusting tendrils of brown, which would later spread throughout to the recipient of its poisonous leaves. He knew how to identify it by the deceptively dead and sickly appearance, with it appearing to be rotting from the inside, its yellow flesh wilting into brown.

But Hector could sense death, and this plant was clearly alive, waiting very patiently for its time to come. 

"Morana's rather fond of using the sweet thing on her victims. But then there's always the risk that they'll die before they break. Still, she likes to have her fun." 

Lenore turned back to Hector after having said this, and internally cursed when she saw his mildly disturbed expression. Probably shouldn't muse over those sort of things when trying to have her pet trust her again. 

"I like to work with corpses everyday, Lenore," Hector said with a slight grin, apparently sensing her worry over the macabre nature of the plant nursery. 

"The creatures are very impressive, Hector. And feel free to use the library if you feel it will improve your work."  
He hummed appreciatively.  
"Or during your downtime. If you're still interested in vampiric culture that is." 

Hector decided to take up Lenore's offer, leaving his forge after working on a particularly difficult demon to head to the library. And judging from the coating of dust over the furniture, it seemed glad to be of use. Whilst idly leafing through books, he cast his mind back to earlier that day, with the Yellow Horyicus settling stubbornly into his stream of consciousness. 

He just couldn't stop thinking of murdering his mistress. 

Of course, he knew that most vampires were almost completely immune to the poison's effects, but thoughts of murder kept plaguing his mind, even though he knew deep down that he could never go through with it, in both a moral and literal sense. He shuddered when thinking of his many beatings at the Council's hand, but he was still disgusted at his ponderings over the Horyicus's potential uses. 

He was also paranoid about the ring. Could it somehow sense where his intentions were drifting? He kept dismissing the thought as ridiculous, but his fingers still traced its intricate etchings. 

He slid another book back into its place with a sigh. 

He knew that he'd return to the library another night to contemplate and research methods of murder, but that was only to comfort himself. He wanted to hold power over the Sisters, although he knew he could never wield it. But definitely not tonight, no, not tonight. Not after Lenore has spoken so kindly to him that day. Not after she'd gone out of her way to see him, when she probably should've been asleep. 

And now it was time for him to sleep too, and so, with his only plan for the next day to do whatever Lenore asked of him, he dozed off in the surprisingly comfortable library chair.


	4. Respect The Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda short, but I hope you have fun with it.

"Oh for fuck - fucking sake, 𝘍𝘜𝘊𝘒!" 

The Council's reaction to the news was mixed. More vampire aristocracy would be arriving at Styria, and although it was just to keep up friendly relations and, perhaps, to subdue the visitor's boredom, Carmilla's outcry was understandable. 

Because Lady Aleksandra was a bitch. 

"You know, considering we've had ample opportunity to assassinate her recently, I think she should be nicer this time."  
"Lenore, your optimism about her is sweet and all, expect for the fact that we don't need a fucking visit, so why is there a 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵?" Carmilla hissed back, in the most restrained unrestrained anger Hector had ever seen. 

He and the vampire sisters were in the private meeting room again, with Lenore's intentions behind bringing him seemingly lost on him. Striga and Morana both yawned at Carmilla's complaining about Aleksandra, with Lenore attempting to persuade her of the merit of the seemingly pointless visit. 

"Guess they're used to them fucking hating each other. She loves to be the alpha bitch," Hector mused to Lenore once they were away from the meeting, with him lounging in the library chair that he'd come to love whilst she leaned against the doorway. 

"Hmm?"  
"Never mind, I was just thinking back to that meeting. Why'd you take me anyway?" Hector shifted in his seat as Lenore moved to approach him, gently placing the book he'd been leafing through onto the small table beside him.  
"Maybe I just like you being near me."  
"And I simply wanted you to be aware that a Lady was arriving. So be on your best behaviour," she continued, smirking slightly. She picked up the book from the table, and continued to be amused when she saw the topic.  
"Vampiric Arts. I see you're still interested by us then."  
"Maybe you'd like to make a collage out of my organs?"  
Lenore huffed at his idea.  
"Aleksandra is arriving next week, just so you know. Carmilla was kind of right about her being a bitch. Still, it's nice to see other vampires."  
"I respectfully disagree."


	5. Bullish Fun

Hector was patient in his forge whilst the ladies dined and discussed what Lenore has assured him were banalities. He just wasn't allowed near Lady Aleksandra in case she was disgusted by his presence. Hector didn't mind much, he didn't see what he could gain from being included.

The smell of the banquet being hurried through the halls told him that the Vampire Sisters wanted to flaunt their resources to their guest. After all, they didn't need baskets of freshly-baked bread, marinated meats, minced pies and delicate seafoods. Nor did they need the plump puddings that would be served afterwards. No, it wasn't need, it was a status symbol. Everyone at the table knew that the lack of appetite that day wasn't important. 

Hector supposed the staff would be delighted by the plentiful leftovers. 

There was silence for a while after this. Lady Aleksandra wasn't here to cause a scene. She was weak in terms of manpower, but Lenore liked her for her political ties ("Definitely not for her charming character"). 

Hector supposed that if Carmilla's plan succeeded, her kingdom would be too self-sustaining for political ties to be important. This visit seemed trivial to him, Lenore's diplomacy would only extend to the ores trade between the industry. Raw material for the staff's weaponry should hardly involve him, this visit was for entertainment. 

Unfortunately, he would become the entertainment that night. 

"Thank God, the thing's decent," Carmilla said as she barged into his forge.  
"Why would I be forging naked?" Hector replied, only to be ignored as the group of vampires filed into his forge. All of the Sisters and The Lady herself had come to join him.  
"Our dear guest was intrigued by your human magic. A display of it would be useful, pet."  
"I find it fascinating how such a brain-dead creature could possibly serve a vampire, Carmilla," Aleksandra remarked, sounding more snide to Hector than fascinated. Still, he had nothing to lose in this situation. 

He wordlessly began forging. The Night Creature he had in mind was nothing special, but then he didn't feel the need to impress anyone. Working from muscle memory left Hector able to hear the visitor's rather unkind remarks about him, but even she couldn't criticise the end result. A sturdy bullish creature knelt in front of the Lady, the horns protruding from its blockish head pointing towards her heart, yet providing no threat. Dangerous, yet docile. 

Aleksandra placed a dainty hand on the bull's snout and girlishly giggled. The creature didn't mind, not when Hector was in control of him. 

"Oh, it looks like Striga!" She exclaimed, continuing to be amused by herself. 

And then the giggle morphed into a scream. 

The horns had pierced Aleksandra's heart. And then the monster retreated back, leaving its horns bloody, and the Lady dead.

Hector's heart leapt into his throat, but before he could process the situation, Carmilla began giggling, as though continuing Aleksandra's quickly cut-off delight. 

"Oh, you should see the look on his face. The ring, idiot. The night-creatures are loyal to us too, pet." 

And before Hector could gain any further understanding of what he'd just done, Lenore ushered him away from his guilt-infested forge and put him to bed. 

"Sleep, and dream well," she whispered softly in his ear, before quietly departing to join her murderous sisters again.

And strangely enough, he slept soundly that night.


	6. Time for Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby chapter for a lazy writer.

"Chamomile tea. Hopefully it'll help you calm down." 

Lenore had carefully placed the hot drink on Hector's bedside table, with Hector waking to find her smiling warmly at him. She pulled up a chair beside his bed, watching patiently whilst Hector sipped his tea. 

"It wasn't your fault, Hector," she said once he'd put the drink down again.   
"I was aware," he replied flatly.

Hector shifted to sit more upright and awkwardly remove the blankets swaddling him.   
"It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't the creature's. It was that bitch's," he continued.   
"She's called Carmilla. My sister whom I love dearly," she gently corrected, as Hector stared at her intently. She sighed.   
"You know what she's like with her schemes. Hector, I can't tell you the details, not now anyway. But you'll always be safe. I'm here now." 

"What's going on?"   
It came out both more croaky and pathetic than Hector would've liked, almost as though he was on the verge of tears. 

And then the tears 𝘥𝘪𝘥 come. He curled back into his blankets and let his emotions overwhelm him, fully aware of the vampire's presence and judgement. How stupid and weak he seemed to everyone. But trying to bring himself back under control was a futile endeavour. Because he 𝘸𝘢𝘴 stupid and weak.

He heard the legs of the chair scraping against the floor, and hated the screeching noise. He just needed quiet. Then he felt Lenore's arms around him, gently squeezing him in a one-sided hug. 

But she was too cold.


	7. Wine is nice, but so is respect.

Hector was staring at a pile of bloated corpses when Lenore greeted him. 

He'd been sighing reluctantly at his future endeavour, not because of his moral qualms about policing the vampire sisters' livestock pen with his demons, but rather because his previous energy and enthusiasm he had held for his work all his life wasn't up to snuff recently. 

Maybe Aleksandra has something to do with it, but he didn't give a shit whether she lived or died, though it being at his creation's hand may be an issue in the future. But Lenore has promised him his safety. 

No, it was probably the feeling of being used. And then being mocked for being used. Again. The cycle would surely break when he put on the ring and caved to what the vampire's wanted, but he'd been left assured that he was still an idiot, and seen as such. 

Still, Lenore's greeting was friendly enough. 

"Back to the forge again. You seem well."  
He grunted in response.  
"A stoic today, aren't we?"  
"So, has everything gone back to normal?"  
"For you, yes," she said, sighing slightly. She'd had a long night.  
"Do you still think of me as a pet?"  
"-Yes."  
The hesitation in her voice was duly noted. Did she think he was 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 now? He wasn't very good at social cues, but probably not. The line of enquiry did seem welcome though, not with the look Lenore was giving him.  
"Well, chop chop. Night creatures don't make themselves," Lenore said cheerily, expectation in her eyes as Hector reached for his hammer. 

"They do," Hector thought to himself. "In normal circumstances, their reproductive rates are perfectly sustainable for their kind." Still, regardless of documented mating habits, he set to work. 

A few corpses in, and Lenore continued their conversation. In a direction Hector had been vaguely expecting for a while, but due to recent events, had been left untouched. 

"By the way, I got a bigger bed."  
"Good for you..?"  
"Master of innuendo, I see," she replied coyly, smirking slightly at him.  
Then Hector remembered the conversation. When he'd been so angry and betrayed and focused on the slave ring that his other duties seemed trivial. Still, Lenore was nice. For a vampire. From past experience though, his thoughts and feelings had nearly always been manipulated by outside forces. He had to doubt.  
"I'm not going to force you," she reassured him warmly.  
Don't act like that's a kindness instead of just basic fucking decency."  
"I wasn't going to, Hector." 

He moved onto the next corpse in silence. Lenore sighed, then left the forge. Hector was wondering if she was fed up with him and was going to bed by herself when she returned with food and wine. 

"Romantic dinner?" Hector said, slightly incredulous at the idea.  
"More about not wanting you to starve." 

They ate their curried mutton in near-silence, with Lenore and Hector sharing occasional curious glances with each other until they'd finished. Hector had been looking forward to the wine, and so letting out a small moan when she swatted away his reaching hand was only mildly embarrassing.  
"Want to talk to me first." Lenore said, so firmly that it wasn't really a question  
"What were we doing just before?" 

She clasped his hand in hers. This felt familiar. He reached for the bottle again, and this time Lenore didn't use her superior strength to prevent him from potential drunkenness.  
She kissed him on the cheek as he poured them both a generous glass. 

"Carmilla needs to take better care of her private stock," Hector noted out-loud to himself, ignoring the slight crack in his voice left from the vampire's display of affection  
Lenore giggled at this, then Hector laughed at her rather girlish giggle, then a silence fell as they both smiled vaguely and each other. The current situation was quite pleasant for him, but not the suspicion that this was leading up to sex with the vampire who had promised that she'd run away from Styria with him. The vampire that had introduced him to the novel concept of slave rings. The traitor who'd treated him with mercy and love? 

He didn't like thinking though. He felt nice right now. Future implications and consequences could get fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna be writing any sex scenes btw


	8. Hell is warm.

"They're getting scared of us. Seeing us as rivals almost..." Lenore said, whilst rubbing small circles on Hector's stomach.   
"Y'know, when you want to take over a corridor nation like that-"   
Lenore cut his observations off, shushing him gently. It reminded him off when she'd marked him as not being a "real person" to her Sisters, but he quickly shook off the thought.   
"And make me into an accidental assassin-"   
She tackled him in a hug, which, owing to her superior vampiric strength, was enough to throw Hector off-balance. The pair lay in a dazed state for a while, wordlessly lost in their own cloudy thoughts. Hector wouldn't be able to get a read on Lenore, even if he exerted the mental energy to try. They were both still mildly euphoric after last night, and Lenore's dominance showing through had meant that he'd been thoroughly interested and engaged, and so exhausted afterwards. The slip into unconsciousness was pleasant too. 

Eastern European vampiric tensions aside, there seemed to be nothing to worry about. Which, in itself, worried Hector. Rather than perpetuate his miseries by questioning his present wellness, he decided that breakfast would be a better idea. And maybe something for his sore throat. 

He groaned and rolled off the bed, his movements impeded by the sudden fatigue he felt wash over his limbs. The numbness was then replaced by a nagging pain in both his limbs and skull. 

"Lenore?" Hector started to ask, without facing back to see her.   
"Yes, Hector," she replied, sighing as the peace was broken.   
"How drunk were you?" He asked, slightly amused and with a crack in his voice.   
"More than a respectable diplomat should be," she said, coyly grinning.   
"Worried Carmilla will fire you?" he teased.   
"You're not safe either, silly. A forgemaster should always be working with his demons at the crack of dawn."   
"And a vampire should be asleep?"   
"I've already slept with you though," she said, moving to get off the bed.   
"I know, I was there. Are you just going to drink my kind's blood and listen to Striga snore?"   
"Yes. We're going to have breakfast together. Obviously not blood for you though."   
"Sounds like domestic bliss," Hector sarcastically replied.   
"It 𝒊𝒔," she said, with a whole-heartedness that proved Striga right. She really was a romantic in a fairy-tale castle.


	9. Headache.

"If everyone knows, then why am I not dead?"  
"I'd never let anything happen to my favourite pet."  
"That explains a lot."  
"You say it sarcastically, but you know it's true, pretty boy." 

Breakfast was interrupted by a mildly disgusted Carmilla entering the room. 

"It's not-" The vampire sister seemed to think better of her unsaid scathing remarks though, leaving them be wordlessly. Once they heard her footsteps fade away, Lenore giggled as Hector let out a sigh of relief. 

"Are you scared of her?" Lenore asked, gently teasing him, yet completely understanding his reasoning.  
"More her gratuitously violent tendencies and general sadism."  
"You've gotten to see the softer side of her Hector. You're a very lucky man," Lenore said to a blank-faced Hector. 

Lenore had never drank a goblet of blood in Hector's presence, with her finding the idea insensitive and unnecessarily cruel, yet the cheese and bread she was eating with him was just reminding her of her base wants. She could hear the thrumming of the forgemaster's heart, and his pulse quickening as he saw the hunger in her eyes. He'd lived with her kind long enough to know these sort of things. 

"Well, errr, thank you. Thank you for the meal," he said, awkwardly making to stand up, until Lenore grasped at his hand. Not forcefully, but she was still much stronger than him. Wouldn't make sense to protest, slave ring or otherwise, so he sat back down in his chair, which was starting to feel much more uncomfortable now. 

"Would you mind?"  
"Lenore, if you need to feed, I'm not going to think less of you. My standards are too low, even caring enough to consider me is my magnum opus when it comes to being respected." He thought of Dracula when he said this, and how he had spoken to him, how he saw his ability as a gift, rather than a curse. But that hadn't been respect for him, not really. He just wanted an army, and he was perfectly willing to lie to an isolated puppy to get it.  
"It's not as enjoyable when you're here," Lenore said as she made for her blood supply.  
"Poor you."  
They sat in silence, both finishing their breakfast and avoiding eye contact. They heard footsteps approaching, and Hector wondered if the guards were coming for him. To tell him that their neighbours had demanded him dead, and that they'd found an assassin who's attempt wouldn't be stopped until his heart stopped. Except they wouldn't tell 𝘩𝘪𝘮 that. That was Lenore's business.

And then Carmilla re-entered. 

"I'm bored enough to deal with this."  
"I love you too, Carmilla."  
"Feeding in front of your puppy? Glad to know you've come back to your senses."  
"He's not as traumatised as you'd have him. Some of us are ladies after all."  
"This is nothing, pet. You should've seen what she did with the Polish man a while back. Enough to make you squeal in terror."  
"Styria is very large, you know, in case you wanted some alone time," Lenore replied, mildly irritated at her reference, but still playful.  
"You have your queen's permission to speak, Hector."  
"You must be 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 bored then."  
Carmilla laughed at his remark. He was right, the way one would idly scratch behind a dog's ears, she was making conversation with her useful idiot.  
"Still scared of me?"  
"You should've seen him the night it all went to shit. On the floor begging me to stop like the brave little boy he is."  
"And you were clearly victorious that night, your army of around 10 feared throughout Europe."  
"Be careful to hold your tongue. In my eyes, it's unneeded.  
"The valiant march, in which the Queen herself not once whined like a-"  
Hector was braced for it when his head was slammed into the table. His comments weren't particularly witty, and he'd been expecting consequences, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. She'd probably come here just to get a reaction anyway, and Carmilla liked to succeed. He'd already had a headache anyway.

She seemed unsatisfied with the force of her blow though.

Hector didn't stay conscious when she hit him again.


	10. Behaviour Correction.

He gasped as he regained consciousness, jerking upright and, to his confusion and dismay, having his breath cut short by rope around himself being pulled taunt. 

His head was filled with a shrill ring, but he could distinguish a woman gently shushing him, and stroking his hair. He didn't feel very soothed by this, but he relaxed his body, the slack of the constraints helping to quell his fight or flight instincts. 

Neither was possible anyway. 

"How long?" He asked, slurred in his speech.   
"Not too long. It's really not good for you, you know, being unconscious like that," the voice chastised. 

"Good boy," she said, as he stopped his gentle stirring and whining. 

He didn't bother to move his head, but he knew who it was. Lenore, comforting him after his "little outburst". That's what she seemed to be calling it anyway. 

He also knew who the heels clacking down the Styrian hallways belonged to. 

His heart jack-knifed when he saw the whip, so unaccustomed to a vampire holding such a crude and unrefined punishment. Her painted nails and the stained blood on the leather parred well with each other. 

Carmilla had been bored indeed, deciding to take Hector's discipline into her own royal hands, rather than the guards', or even Lenore's. 

"Kiss my foot, puppy."   
"I can't," he murmured, pulling at the rope looped around his wrists to demonstrate his restrained condition.   
"Show us how much you love your Queen."   
"I 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵," he repeated, struggling to turn over and face her. 

Lenore merely observed, revealing no hints as to what he had ought to do in this situation. The only thing he was certain of was that he would soon be feeling the sting of Carmilla's whip on his shoulder, and even that wasn't as simple as he would've liked. Instead, he had to play along with the vampiric theatrics, and without the script. 

"Such a shame," she said, dangerously gentle now. Carmilla traced the faint white scars on his naked back, barely visible, but noticeable to anyone who took the time to feel for them. A map of his misery, lay bare for her to mock. 

"Poor boy," she continued, condescending in her faux-comfort towards the animal. "Do you think she loves you?" 

He followed Carmilla's pointed finger towards Lenore, but only met a mask of indifference in his mistress's face. Her soft and smug words were cut off by the flash of pain he felt as she brought the whip down upon him. 

And yet, the pain was still merciful. There were far worse things an aristocratic vampire could bring upon a human, if they ever felt the whim. Hardly torturous, not this display. 

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, but-" 

His start at an apology wasn't well-accepted. The hit was expected mentally, even if his body hadn't been prepared. 

"Excuses, excuses, excuses," she sing-songed playfully. 

What came next was a brutal onslaught of lashings.

The rapid and random succession of her blows meant that finding a pattern in her punishment was near-impossible. Which was a shame, because Hector had always relied on finding the pattern in the pain. Detaching himself from the punisher's anger, lest he break out into the tears, which would be further used against him, was a tried and tested coping mechanism. 

Panting and still on the high of the adrenaline rush, Carmilla reached for Hector's face, brushing an escaped tear gently. She licked the pad of her thumb, giggling and satisfied. 

"Good pet." 

"Although, Carmilla, I really don't see the point in restraining him in such a manner. He's rather weak, you know," Lenore observed, rather light and nonchalant in her tone.

"She's finally decided to be involved with her pet's discipling then. Good. Her softness is the reason he had these self-important delusions anyway," the Styrian Queen thought to herself, as she pressed the leather whip into her sister's hands. 

"Go on then. I know you'll be gentle, but it still gets the point across," Carmilla goaded. 

Despite this, the next strikes felt all the crueller to Hector. 

It was what he deserved. 

They left him, still restrained, with a small blade by his side when they were satisfied. Hector's escape was clearly expected then, even if it took him embarrassingly long to do so. He blamed his pained twitches and general lack of control over his body. The blood loss may have been delicious for Carmilla and Lenore, but it'd left him dazed and numb. 

Although, maybe he really was just the dumb animal the vampire Sisters thought him to be. Not an unlikely possibility, blood loss could only take responsibility for a small fraction of his mistakes. 

As he staggered away from the red stains, he wondered if he was expected to approach Carmilla again, so as to finally kiss the foot of his queen.


	11. Sweet Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disappeared for a month.

"This should feel nicer," Lenore said softly, as she attempted to soothe his damaged body. 

Hector had returned, tail between his legs, to Lenore's cosy bedroom, having knocked meekly on her door before being ushered in by the vampire herself. 

She rubbed his reddened legs as though she wasn't the cause of them. As though she hadn't exposed him even more than Carmilla, tugging down his trousers to strike the backs of his thighs, left unscathed by Carmilla herself. 

Perhaps Lenore saw it as a mercy though.

It had been a nasty surprise, and he certainly wasn't numb to the refreshed battleground of pain, but working on his back more would've been worse for him in the long run. 

"The ointment should hopefully prevent scarring," she said, as Hector heard a lid being calmly unscrewed. 

The sound was nice.

"Further scarring, anyway," she continued, the sympathy in her voice towards his past overshadowed by the firmly medical way she administered the ointment to his skin. Quite roughly, but not cruelly, she rubbed the coldness into his skin, causing Hector a strange tingling sensation. 

The ministrations became more tender as the sensation began to subside, and eventually she pulled Hector so that he was sitting up to face her, rather than on his stomach. 

He whined slightly at the movement, and the friction against the bedsheets. 

"Just be glad I wasn't in the coffin tonight, or you'd be much more uncomfortable."

"You don't seem to be a very confrontational person, so tonight was-" Lenore cut herself off from the in depth conversation she was going to have with him. 

When she looked into the boy's eyes, he clearly needed to sleep. 

"We'll talk more about this at a later time, but get some rest first," Lenore gently ordered, pushing him back down into the bedsheets.  
"Thank you," he said, snuggling into the bedsheets and embracing their warmth.   
"And budge over, I already told you I wasn't in the coffin." 

"Can I apologise?"   
"For..?" She left her sentence to hang in the air as she began to get undressed. Or at least, that's what Hector assumed. His sore back was all that faced her.  
"Getting cocky with your sister, she's the queen of this place, and I'm in it now."   
"Yes, that was a stupid, but understandable, idea."  
"Understandable?"   
"Humans. You charge into a situation because you and your feelings get all riled up. Then you're left with consequences that are too hard for you to handle. When you live forever, you consider the long term," Lenore said, changing into her nightdress whilst doing so.   
"But the potential consequences also mean less to you. There's hardly a situation in this world that isn't safe for you to charge into."   
"I suppose vampire kind's greatest enemy is other vampires, then," she said, falsely stuffy as she imitated the voice of a philosophical scholar.   
"You're nicer though. I imagine you're nice to other vampires. Why would you have enemies?"   
"Lady Aleksandra..."  
"Surprising how easily I can forget an assassination I had a hand in like that."   
"Besides, being nice to the animals isn't the most admirable vampiric trait," she continued wistfully.   
"Yes, but-"   
"Now go to sleep. Dream of the many ways you could apologise to the Sisters of Styria," Lenore said firmly as she got into bed beside him.

Hector remained silent, and dozed off as ordered. His sweet dreams of undead puppies soon became nightmares. 

About his journey to the place with the very bed he was sleeping in. 

His dreaming of apologising to Carmilla did nothing to subdue the bloody visions. She didn't stop giggling. And beating. And ignoring his pathetic pleas for mercy. 

She should be the one apologising, the bitch. 

Some of the situations didn't even happen, and were just constructs of his imagination. 

They still felt real enough for Hector to squirm though. 

Lenore instinctively reached out to him though, and the worry lines on his face began to fade as she pulled his body next to her's. 

Not that Hector would ever remember this. 

Nor the gentle kiss upon his cheek.


End file.
